


A New York Story

by jessm78



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessm78/pseuds/jessm78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisa accompanies Michael when he goes to New York with the other Pythons to promote Holy Grail, but it ends up being more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start Spreadin' the News

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in April 1975 and is a sequel to both "An Old Friend" and "St. Valentine's Day." Some information from the Pythons' visit to NY is taken from Michael's "Diaries: The Python Years" to make it at least somewhat realistic, but I may have taken a bit of creative license here and there. Just as a warning, there is some attempted rape/non-con a bit later. I wasn't sure if it was enough to use the archive warning, but I just thought I'd make note of that so no one's in for an unpleasant surprise. Things will turn out okay, though. I promise. :) Oh, and if there's any confusion about the mention of the honeymoon in Barbados, I'd made a little mention of it at the end of An Old Friend, and I'd planned to write a little fic continuing that which takes place during the honeymoon. I may still do that, but hopefully this mention isn't going to confuse anyone. Just wanted to clear that up.

Well, here we go - living out of suitcases again.   
  
Lisa chuckled in spite of herself as she opened her training case and proceeded to put some of her personal items in the drawer of the hotel room's end table. Just over a month earlier, the Pythons – sans John and Eric – had traveled to America to promote Flying Circus at a number of its public television stations, and she had accompanied them. She had always wanted to visit America, and she couldn't bear the thought of being apart from Michael for several weeks again. It had hurt enough during the weeks he spent in Scotland filming Holy Grail, and they'd only recently reconnected back then.   
  
Their America visit had dotted the continent: Los Angeles, Dallas, Philadelphia, New York ...all quite cosmopolitan cities that were intriguing, if not a bit overwhelming. She enjoyed visiting some of the historical landmarks, and especially walking through New York's Central Park with Michael and the others. Poor Terry Jones lost a chunk of his fur coat to an ornery horse. They all had a good laugh over it, though deep down she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Jonesy. Nonetheless, she'd had a wonderful time and everything was great apart from a few female fans at the hotel trying to get Michael to come downstairs and visit with them. Nothing ever came of it, though. He'd learned from their honeymoon in Barbados not to indulge the fans.  
  
She'd finished putting her things away and sat on the edge of the king sized bed in the middle of the large - by her standards, anyway - hotel room. She became lost in thought as she thought back to that trip and about the present situation. Last time, Eric declined to join them as he was busy filming his new television series. Even though they were such good friends, Michael actually seemed a bit relieved, especially after the events surrounding Valentine's Day. Now, Eric had joined them on this trip to New York. He had been dating his girlfriend, Cheri, for over two months, while he and Lisa remained good friends. Cheri couldn't join them due to work commitments, but Eric had proven that he wasn't interested in anything beyond friendship with Lisa. There was no need for her or Michael to worry.  
  
Her thoughts then turned to the film. So far, they'd had some marginal success with it back in England. She was hoping for a similar reception here in the States. The Pythons had worked hard on it, not only on the filming but also editing and recording the soundtrack album. She hoped it would pay off.   
  
She sighed and didn't realize she'd zoned out until she felt a hand lightly touching her shoulder.  
  
"Lisa?"  
  
She turned and lifted her gaze to find Michael looking at her curiously. "Hm? What?" she blurted, caught unawares.  
  
"Ah, there you are. For a moment I was worried I'd lost you," he joked, a small grin revealing dimples at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry, Michael," she giggled apologetically. "Just been doing a lot of thinking, is all."  
  
"About?"  
  
She found herself unable to put it all into words. "About everything. So much has been happening the past two months. It's been like a whirlwind. Lot of work. But also great fun." She smiled at him.  
  
His eyes found the floor and he chuckled briefly. "Yes, that would be a good way to describe it. I have to admit, the reception we've been getting for 'Grail' has been better than I'd anticipated. I didn't think it would go over as well as it has. Hopefully our promotion here will pay off as well." He smiled and moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso. "And you don't know how much your constant support means to me, love."   
  
She beamed as he nuzzled her neck. "Oh, I'm sure I do," she replied before turning and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocated by pulling her into an embrace, kissing her passionately and leaning into her. He leaned into her so deeply she ended up falling over onto the bed, where their kissing and caressing continued uninterrupted.  
  
Finally, Michael sobered up as if he had something on his mind. He straightened up slightly, finishing with a tender kiss on her lips and brushing his hand against her cheek.   
  
Lisa felt intoxicated by what had just occurred, but the way he stopped suddenly made her frown. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. I'd just remembered what I was originally going to tell you." His gaze turned apologetic. "I have to be up at 6 tomorrow for our appearance on 'AM America.'"  
  
Lisa arched an eyebrow. “That early?”  
  
“Yes, I'm afraid. When they said it was an early morning chat show, they weren't joking. It doesn't actually start until 7, but I suppose they want us there early to brief us on what we should be doing and all that.”  
  
Lisa nodded. She understood but still thought it was crazy.   
  
“I'll try to be extra quiet and not disturb you when I leave,” he smiled affectionately. “And we'll have breakfast together when I get back, yeah?”  
  
Her face fell. “I thought we'd talked about it and decided I'd join you at the studio,” she said in a small, disappointed voice.  
  
Michael blushed and lifted his gaze to the ceiling, looking like he wanted to kick himself. “Oh, that's right.” He turned back to Lisa, looking concerned. “Are you sure, love? It's not too early for you?”  
  
Her smile grew wide as she advanced and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. “I don't care how early it is. I'm here to support you, remember?” she purred. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips that made his cheeks flush and his dimples reemerge behind a satisfied smile.   
  
“Have I ever told you how very appreciative of that I am?” he asked before engulfing her in another deep kiss. Lisa felt herself shiver from the arousal of Michael's tongue entering her mouth and his hands reaching down her back, playing with her bra strap. It ended much too soon as he let her come back up for air.  
  
She took a few deep breaths. “I think so,” she said coyly.  
  
Michael giggled softly, tracing an index finger across her lips. He held her close and kissed the top of her head.  
  
Lisa beamed, her heart soaring from Michael's affection, but she suddenly felt her smile falter when another realization struck her.   
  
Michael seemed to notice and looked at her quizzically.   
  
“I just thought of something... If we have to be up so early for your television appearance, we'll have to make it an early night. I suppose we won't get to see very much of New York,” she explained glumly.  
  
Michael shut his eyes and sighed dramatically. “Blimey, you're right. Well, I reckon those plans to go skinny dipping in the East River are out.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him, then gave him a murderous glare, swatting him across the chest. Her glare softened into a smirk. “As if you had ever planned that in the first place. And no doubt the police would catch us. Don't forget, New York City is vastly different from the lochs of Scotland.”  
  
“Yes, Mum,” Michael replied in a sing-song voice, rolling his eyes playfully. “And we just happened to be lucky that that policeman was also a Python fan.”   
  
Lisa felt her smirk slip and she broke into giggles. Michael soon joined her, seemingly glad that she could still joke about their rather embarrassing encounter with the law during their little jaunt soon after the Holy Grail filming.  
  
“But seriously, darling, it's not as though we're only spending one day in New York. We'll have five days to see as much of the city as possible.” He then glanced at his watch. “And it's only half past five. I don't see why we can't still have dinner out, perhaps take in a few sights as well this evening. How does that strike you?”  
  
Yes, typical Michael: always trying his best to make those he cared about happy. The grateful smile Lisa felt tugging at her lips proved that he was successful.   
  
“I would love that, Michael. Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips that made his face light up.   
  
“Then shall we be off?”   
  
Lisa nodded and Michael turned, grabbing a dining guide he'd apparently picked up from the lobby when they'd first checked in. He opened the door and held it for her, closing and locking it after he'd joined her out in the corridor.  
  
“All I ask,” she began, pulling a serious face, “is that our chauffeur not be that horse that tried to make a meal out of Terry Jones' coat.” 


	2. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa's dinner comes back to haunt her, and Michael abandons her for a good long while to play with his friends. Not a very good start...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time - a little over 10 pages in my file. Hope you don't find it drags excessively. I'm mainly trying to set things up for the main action. I also added some details found in Michael's Diaries to make this at least somewhat realistic (oh, and just so you know, the part where he mentions not being in Playboy, I suppose it should really be Playgirl, but hey, Michael himself actually said "Playboy" in his diary entry, so yeah I'm keeping that ;P).

  
“Ohhhhh, God...” Lisa moaned as she clumsily lifted her head off the pillow. She'd slept pretty soundly but was suddenly awakened by an intense wave of nausea. Last night, after much deliberation, she and Michael decided to try out a Thai restaurant a couple of blocks from the hotel. He'd actually been the one to suggest it. They'd both felt rather adventurous, though deep down a part of her hoped she wouldn't regret it. She ended up ordering duck with some sort of spicy peanut sauce … at least that's what she thought it was. She thought it tasted a bit strange, but then again, she'd never eaten anything like this before. Maybe it was supposed to taste that way.  
  
Afterwards, they'd taken a stroll through Central Park while it was still light. As the light began to wane and result in a gorgeous, golden sunset, Michael suggested taking a horse-drawn carriage ride through the city streets. It was a lovely night and she couldn't think of a better way to end their impromptu sight-seeing tour.  
  
The pungent taste in her mouth, an unwelcome reminder of that odd dinner meal, rudely invaded her thoughts and made the wave of nausea even worse. She quickly sat up, willing the dizziness that hit her to subside so that she wouldn't fall off the bed and knock herself out.  
  
She felt her feet guide her ungracefully over to the bathroom where she was horrified to find the door shut. Oh, God, did she have to puke. She really, really didn't want to do it on the floor.  
  
She knocked urgently. “Michael? You in there??” She meant for her voice to be loud and urgent, but it came out as weak and wretched.  
  
For a few seconds, nothing. Then... “Lisa, I'm sorry. You need the loo?” Michael replied, sounding a bit apologetic.  
  
She leaned against the door, further willing herself not to give in to the desire to vomit. “Michael, I'm really ill, I have to puke. Please come out soon?”  
  
She heard the faucet run briefly and then shut off. Then footsteps, and finally the doorknob twisting. She stepped back as the door opened and Michael stepped out, fully dressed and holding his toothbrush. His smile was quickly replaced by a startled frown.  
  
“What happened to you?” he said simply, appearing deeply concerned as he placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“I don't know, maybe something I ate last night. Can we talk later so I don't vomit all over your lovely clothes?” she whimpered.  
  
Michael nodded quickly. “Oh yes, I'm sorry. Go...”  
  
She barely heard the last of what he said as she raced into the bathroom and flung the door shut. The minty smell, most likely from Michael's toothpaste or mouthwash, somehow made the nausea worse. Nothing held back the contents of her stomach as she collapsed in front of the toilet and threw up violently.  
  
It was over as quickly as it'd started and, satisfied that she'd made a (hopefully) complete farewell to that unfortunate meal, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. As she headed for the door she heaved a sigh of relief, but a feeling of general queasiness hadn't left her. Maybe this wasn't over just yet.  
  
She exited the bathroom and was met by Michael's sympathetic gaze. “You alright now?” he asked softly.  
  
She headed for the bed and he joined her, sitting next to her. “I don't know. I think so,” she said tentatively.”I think it was what I had for dinner. It just didn't sit right with me. Maybe I've got a touch of food poisoning?”  
  
The look Michael was giving her made it seem that he thought this was all his fault. He remained silent and looked away.  
  
Lisa reached up and stroked his hair. “Michael, please, it's not your fault. You didn't know this was going to happen. _I_ didn't know this was going to happen. I was just as willing to try that restaurant as you were.” Well, maybe not _just_ as much...  
  
He turned back to her and a little smile peeked at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I'm being silly,” he nodded. “I just hate to see you feeling ill, love.” He gave her a gentle hug, as if he was afraid holding her tighter would make her feel worse. “Feeling better now?”  
  
She nodded. “A bit, but I think it's best if I don't join you for the chat show. I'm still feeling queasy and I don't want to take any chances.”  
  
Michael nodded. “That sounds reasonable. And you can still watch,” he said, gesturing to the small television in the room.  
  
Lisa smiled. “I wish I could support you in person, but I'll be there in spirit. Now, you said the channel is ABC?”  
  
“Yes, that's right.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I'd better be off. Terry told me he arranged for a car to take us to the studio at 6:30, so it should be here any minute. You sure you'll be okay, love?”  
  
She nodded and her lips edged up into a smirk. “I'll try, but I won't make any promises.”  
  
“Oh, wonderful, try and make me feel guilty now, won't you!” he exclaimed.  
  
Lisa laughed and then held her stomach as she felt an uncomfortable twinge. Michael had briefly joined her in laughter and stopped abruptly as he seemed to notice. He looked at her sadly and then bent to give her a soft kiss on the lips.  
  
“Don't die on me, you hear me?”  
  
“That I can promise,” she returned, smiling tenderly. “And say 'hello' to all the guys from me, yeah?”  
  
“I will,” Michael smiled, grabbing his hat from the dressing table. He headed for the door and, giving her one final nod, he left.  
  
Remembering the bottle of 'pink stuff' medicine she brought for emergencies, Lisa walked over to the training case on top of the chest of drawers, removed it and took a swig of it. She heaved a deep breath and slowly let it out. She regretted the fact that she couldn't join Michael, but it was for the best. She wanted to be the picture of health for the rest of their time in New York City.  
  
At least she'd get to watch him on the program. Speaking of which, what channel was ABC? She found a copy of a TV listings guide with some other informative papers on top of the chest of drawers and flipped through it.  
  
Ah, channel 7. She smiled and walked over to the television set, turning it on and flipping the knob over to the correct channel. She sat through some rather boring commercials and local community information, her brain impatiently chanting 'come on, 7 o'clock, where are you?' over and over.

* * *

 

  
Michael was waiting at the curb in front of the hotel only about two minutes when a limousine pulled up and stopped abruptly. The back passenger window rolled down and Terry Jones' anxious face appeared. He held up a hand, gesturing for Michael to hurry up and get in.  
  
Michael hurriedly skipped up to the car, about to reach for the door when it flew open in a flourish. Startled, he jumped back. “Christ, Terry. Trying to give me a heart attack, are you?”  
  
“Get in,” Jonesy demanded, clearly not amused. “We've only got 10 minutes to get there.” He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his watch, as if that was supposed to make his case.  
  
Michael regarded him oddly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought it was only a few blocks away. Is your watch running fast?”  
  
Jonesy rolled his eyes and then seemed to visibly relax in a hurry. He gestured excitedly to the accouterments, particularly of the alcoholic kind, included in the limo. “You wouldn't believe all the drink they've got in here. Look … whiskey, vodka … oh, and look at the size of the glasses.” He smiled and picked up a very large wine glass, the bowl of which seemed to rival the size of any soup bowl Michael had seen.  
  
Michael snorted, amused. “Yeah, typical. Sacrificing quality for quantity. Isn't that the way.”  
  
Jonesy appeared confused. “What? How do you know this stuff isn't any good?” He began to open one of the bottles of whiskey. “I mean, the way things seem so expensive here, it's got to be halfway decent at least. Hmm...” He tilted the bottle up to his lips and was about to take a drink when Michael snatched it out of his hand.  
  
“Hey! Not before our television appearance, hm?” he admonished Jonesy who'd fallen back onto the seat.  
  
“Oi! I was just going to have a little sip!”  
  
“Yeah, and I'm Woody Allen,” Michael said, placing the whiskey bottle back where Jonesy got it.  
  
“You're no fun, you know that?”  
  
Michael smirked. “There are those who would suggest otherwise.”  
  
“Speaking of which, where is your wife?” Jonesy suddenly asked, becoming more serious. “I thought you said she wanted to come along to the studio and watch us.”  
  
“She was, but she's fallen ill and decided to stay back.”  
  
Jonesy looked at Mike, concerned. “Is she alright?”  
  
Michael nodded. “Yeah, probably just a little stomach thing. “We had Thai food for dinner last night and she thinks something didn't agree with her.”  
  
Jonesy scrunched up his face, as if in disgust. “Oh, Mike. How could you?”  
  
Michael's eyes narrowed. “Me? Why do you think it was me?”  
  
“Knowing you, you probably talked her into it. Maybe conspired with the chef to put a little something into her dish? Something that comes in a container with a picture of a dead rat on it?” The grin Jonesy was apparently trying to hide came out in full force and he chuckled.  
  
Mike rolled his eyes. “Oh, God.” He glared at Terry. “You know, that's not funny.”  
  
“Really, Mike. You haven't been married one entire year yet and you're trying to poison her?”  
  
“Oh, _shut up_.”  
  
Jonesy was laughing now. “It's a good thing she isn't joining us at the studio. I don't want to be privy to whatever else you've got planned … a little something in her drink, perhaps?”  
  
Michael fixed him with a withering glare that made him stop laughing and cough awkwardly.  
  
“Er... sorry. I suppose I'm just a bit nervous about this television appearance. Trying to release the tension, you know?” Jonesy said, looking away uncomfortably.  
  
“Yeah. Alright. I suppose I'm a bit nervous as well,” Michael said softly, nodding.  
  
They sat in silence until they arrived at the studio. They both exited the limo and traversed the pavement leading up to the imposing brick building with large windows. The receptionist up front instructed them on where they should go and they made their way down an airy corridor.  
  
At the end was a large room that led out onto the set of AM America. Michael smiled upon finding Graham, Eric and Terry Gilliam already there. “Hey, guys,” he said softly.  
  
“So, you two finally made it!” Eric grinned. “What took you so long?”  
  
“See, I told you we needed to be swift about it!” Jonesy addressed Mike smugly.  
  
Michael rolled his eyes.  “Have they gone over anything important with you lot?”  
  
Eric shook his head. “Not really. All they said was that you and I were going to do the first hour, then Gilliam, Jonesy and Graham were going to join in after that.”  
  
Michael nodded and then regarded the other three curiously. “So what are you going to do until then?”  
  
Gilliam shrugged. “We just thought we'd hang out here. I was able to convince Stephanie's assistant to give me some paper. I'll just draw some funny pictures, cartoons, things like that. Depending on how badly you guys do, we might need something to liven up the rest of the show.” He smirked.  
  
“Whatever gets you through the night, Gilliam,” Eric said dryly.  
  
Graham, who'd been puffing away on his pipe, suddenly removed it and spoke up. “Hey Mikey, didn't you say Lisa might be along?”  
  
“She couldn't, Gray. She woke up feeling ill this morning.” Michael sensed another stupid joke coming on, so he quickly added, “But she'll be fine. Just a little bug.”  
  
“I'm telling you, he tried to poison her,” Jonesy informed them right on cue.  
  
Eric scrunched up his face in disgust just as Jonesy had done earlier in the limo. “Ohhhh, Mike, really!” he exclaimed in mock disapproval. “What've you done to her this time?”  
  
“Oh, fuck off, Idle,” Mike said, giving Eric a little shove. He turned back to Jonesy, scowling tiredly. “And really, fuck you, Terry. Once is funny. Twice makes you a stupid, festering twat --”  
  
“Michael Palin? Eric Idle? We're ready for you guys,” announced a young man who suddenly poked his head out of the door leading to the set. Not far behind him was Stephanie, the slender, red-headed host of the show.  
  
Michael immediately shut his mouth, coughed and blushed furiously. “Oh, yes, um... sorry,” he said quickly. He grabbed his hat, then decided against wearing it and stuck it on the table where Gilliam was already doodling away on his paper.  
  
“See you later, loves,” Eric called out in his Timmy Williams voice, waving to the Terries and Graham before joining Michael on the set. 

* * *

 

  
Lisa's patience – or slight lack thereof – had paid off as seven o'clock in the morning finally arrived and the opening credits for this 'AM America' program finally appeared on the television screen. It then cut to a dimly-lit newsroom type set, casting shadows on the occupants of the room. Once the credits and formulaic theme music finally ended, the set lit up, showing Michael and Eric sitting at the desk along with a skinny redhead.  
  
Lisa smiled. She'd heard that the television camera could make a person look heavier, but Michael – and Eric, actually – looked exactly the same to her; actually, quite better than she'd expected. He seemed a bit nervous as the program started up and this redhead, who went by the name of Stephanie, introduced him and Eric. But he also seemed a bit awkward and shy, which Lisa found very endearing.  
  
Stephanie made polite chit-chat with them at first. “Yes, may I just say something?” Michael suddenly asked her. “I just wanted to say 'Hello' to my lovely wife, Lisa, who couldn't accompany me to the studio because she's taken ill.”  
  
“Oh! Is she – is she alright?” Stephanie asked. Lisa couldn't tell if it was genuine concern or if she was just playing it up for the camera. She hoped it was the former, even though she knew television personalities could be quite phony.  
  
“Oh, no, she'll be alright. It's just a little stomach thing,” Michael reassured her. “She's fine.” He turned straight to the camera. “Hello, love, I hope you're feeling better. I'll be back shortly and perhaps we can have a bite to eat if you're up to it...”  
  
Lisa chuckled fondly in reaction to his sweet rambling.  
  
“... I just want you to know that I love you, in sickness and in health.” He smiled and winked at the camera.  
  
She barely heard Stephanie's “Aww...” as her eyes filled with tears and she sniffled to wish them away. She knew she was the luckiest woman alive to be married to Michael.  
  
The rest of the show proved to be very amusing. Eric, dressed in a blue shirt, pinstriped overalls and a matching hat, made her laugh by wearing Stephanie's cardigan at various times and holding up signs with funny sayings like “Norman Mailer, ring your mother.” After returning from a commercial break, he and Michael were shown playing chess and eating snacks while a sign behind them proclaimed “No smoking or eating in the studio.” Jonesy appeared with his hair all rumpled up and wearing a funny fake mustache, and Gilliam would randomly pull funny faces or hold up signs with funny cartoons.  
  
Finally when the program was drawing to a close, Stephanie made an announcement thereof, resulting in groans of disapproval from the Pythons. They each started getting up and ransacking the set. Lisa started giggling uncontrollably, half expecting her stomach to writhe in pain but she didn't care. She'd felt so bad about not being able to attend but the show they put on really cheered her up.  
  
She calmed down at last and sighed. Her stomach hadn't protested at all. She was finally starting to feel better. Yawning, she realized how tired she was and still a bit weak. Deciding a little nap wouldn't hurt, she lay back on the bed and in no time had drifted off into a deep sleep.

 

 

* * *

  
Michael barely noticed the startled expression on Terry's face as he practically leaped from the limousine onto the pavement in front of the hotel at lightning speed. As he neared the doors, he stopped only to check his watch for what was probably the tenth time in the last five minutes.  
  
It was almost a quarter past noon. He sighed. He hadn't expected everything to run so late. After AM America he'd planned to return and check on Lisa, but he and the other Pythons were whisked away by an eager fellow from some magazine, wishing to do an impromptu photo shoot with them. He'd first photographed them outside on the New York City streets, basically candid poses. Later they'd gone up to his studio to do a more unconventional shoot, one which both amused Michael and made him feel a bit awkward.  
  
Later on, the television studio treated them all to brunch at the Plaza hotel, where he and the others had discussed plans related to the Grail opening. He barely remembered much apart from the important details like dates and times. Lisa had been at the forefront of his thoughts the whole time. He felt guilty leaving her alone for so long, especially in that condition. She'd said she'd felt better, but he could tell she was still quite under the weather. At one point he excused himself and found a pay telephone outside, attempting to phone her hotel room. She hadn't picked up, though, and he'd first assumed she was in the bathroom. Which, of course, reminded him of her condition and made him feel even guiltier.  
  
He hurried inside the lobby and over to the elevators, fervently pushing the button for the fourth floor. After deciding two seconds was too long to wait, he headed for the stairs. He raced up, taking them two at a time. He'd passed one or two people on the way who probably regarded him bewilderingly. He didn't care. Lisa was either sick with worry or pissed off.  
  
He was out of breath by the time he reached their floor. Moving quickly down the corridor, he slowed as he finally approached their room. Removing his hat, he pushed his long bangs back from his face and wiped his brow. “Please forgive me, darling,” he muttered under his breath as he raised his fist to knock on the door.  
  
No answer.  
  
He reached into his pocket, producing the room key. He slowly twisted the knob and entered the room, wincing inwardly to prepare himself for Lisa's reaction. He walked further into the room and noticed her lying across the bed. He smiled ...  
  
… And then did a double take as he discovered she was fast asleep.  
  
How long had she been like this? Of course, he really had no way of knowing. She could have been fine and awake nearly the whole time, but had just settled down for a catnap. At least he hoped that was it and that she hadn't grown sicker.  
  
He bent and touched her shoulder. “Lisa?” She didn't react. He smiled and tried again, this time nudging her a bit more. “Lisa ...” he said in a gentle sing-song way.  
  
Finally she stirred. “Mm?” she said sleepily. She shook her head slightly and opened her eyes. She'd started to smile and then her eyes widened. “Michael?? Oh my God, what time is it?” her voice rose, almost to panic.  
  
Seating himself next to her, Michael frowned. She must have been out quite a while. Poor thing. He gave her a sympathetic smile and gazed at her, still a bit worried. “Are you feeling alright now?”  
  
Lisa looked like she had to think about that for a second. “Oh. Um... yes, feeling much better.” She gave him a faint, lopsided grin. “But you didn't answer my question: what time is it?”  
  
Michael briefly gazed downward and chuckled, a bit embarrassed. “About half past noon.” He looked back up at Lisa and chuckled a bit more, noticing her jaw drop. “How long have you been asleep, Sleeping Beauty?” he teased, giving her an affectionate kiss on the lips.  
  
Lisa blushed and giggled herself. “Oh goodness, um... I can't even recall. Since early this morning. I suppose I really needed the rest after being sick like that.”  
  
Now Michael's eyes widened. “Early this morning?? You mean you didn't even get to see my American television debut?” He regarded her in disappointment, giving her a mock pout.  
  
She laughed. “You would never let me live it down if that happened, would you?”  
  
“No, I wouldn't,” Michael joked back, giving her a wink. “So, did you like it?”  
  
“I loved it. You chaps did a marvelous job. I felt so sad that I couldn't join you down there and that I'd taken ill like that, but you really cheered me up. You, Graham, Eric, the Terries... you really made me laugh with your off-the-wall antics on that program.” She giggled and then gazed at him seriously. Michael could see tears in the corners of her eyes. “And that little message to me on-air... Michael, you are such a darling, and every day I am so thankful to be with you.” Her voice began to falter and she cleared her throat.  
  
Deep down, Michael was crying tears of joy though on the surface he allowed himself a tender smile as he gazed at her. A little grin started peeking out of his dimples. “So, you liked it then, eh?”  
  
Lisa laughed and grabbed him, embracing him tightly and giving him a deep kiss. “You know that's a yes, don't you?”  
  
Michael could feel his skin flush all the way down to his toes as he nodded. He looked back up at Lisa and noticed her playful expression had turned serious again, maybe even a little accusatory.  
  
“So, you've only got back now? You were on that program at seven and it's gone past noon. What on earth did you do all this time?” She'd folded her arms across her chest, although the expression she gave him was akin to amusement.  
  
“Oh, tons. After AM America, I was going to come back here and check on you, but a photographer whisked us all away for a photo shoot.”  
  
“Really...”  
  
Michael nodded. “Mm. He wanted to do a big spread for Vogue magazine. He took some outdoor shots and then we went to his studio.”  
  
“What kind of shoot did you do? Something silly?” she grinned.  
  
“Er...” Michael blushed furiously. “Well... 'Suppose it depends on how you look at it. I wore my hat, my socks, and …. that's it.”  
  
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Well, whose idea was that, then?” She sounded amused, not horrified, causing Michael to sigh inwardly in relief.  
  
“It wasn't mine, I can assure you. Gray and Terry immediately suggested it. There wasn't any full-frontal nudity to speak of; we each had our naughty bits hidden by the chap in front of us. So don't worry, your silly husband and his tadger aren't going to be splashed all over Playboy.” He gave her a self-deprecating grin.  
  
Her reaction wasn't the one he was expecting. She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “Really?? I'm so disappointed. Whose idea was it to make you cover your naughty bits?? I'll kill them!!”  
  
Michael's face cracked open in a broad smile and he began to laugh. He grabbed Lisa and knocked her down onto the bed, kissing her deeply.  
  
Lisa giggled. “But really, I'm glad you did. I'd like to remain the only woman who knows them personally.” She winked at him.  
  
“And so you shall!” Michael grinned wickedly, tracing her jawline with his finger before giving her another kiss.  
  
Lisa gazed into his eyes and smiled. “So! What else did you do?”  
  
“After the photo shoot, we were given brunch down at the Plaza hotel. Lots of food – a bit overindulgence in my opinion – and some orange juice with champagne. We discussed our plans for the 'Grail' opening Sunday morning. We're supposed to be at the cinema at eleven to give out coconuts to the crowds showing up.”  
  
Lisa nodded.  
  
“And we also discussed the opening party that's going on Monday afternoon.”  
  
Lisa's ears seemed to perk up a bit at that. “Party?” she repeated.  
  
“Yes, four o'clock at the Commodore Hotel. As I understand, it's going to be quite a glamorous affair. Some big entertainers, news personalities, and rock stars. Actually, it's being held in the hotel's massage parlor – the 'Relaxation Plus' if I got the name right.”  
  
“Ooh, really? Sounds quite posh!” Her smile then faltered a bit. “... And perhaps a bit overwhelming?”  
  
Michael gazed at her sympathetically. Lisa was still a bit on the shy side and hadn't really met anyone famous. Well, there was the Moody Blues concert she'd talked him into attending about eight months ago at which they'd briefly chatted with the band while getting autographs. But, apart from that, the world of 'celebrity' was still very new to her. Michael, on the other hand, was quite used to it. Yes, meeting some big personalities for the very first time could still be a bit overwhelming to him so he sympathized with her there, but he'd hoped that his more robust experience with celebrities could help ease her shyness. He would be there to back her up, so to speak.  
  
He smiled. “Don't worry, love. Everything will be alright. Just stay with me and I'll make all the introductions. And you know how I can carry on a conversation … I just hope I don't blow it and bore anyone to death.”  
  
“Oh, stop that!” She gave him a playful swat across the chest. “You never bore me!”  
  
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You sure that after nearly a year of marriage you're not just saying that to make me feel better?”  
  
“You think I'd carry on a joke that long??” Lisa retorted incredulously. “Really, Michael, I deserve more credit than that!”  
  
The lopsided grin slipped and he began to laugh. “I know, darling. I'm just taking the piss out of you.” He winked and then gave her a kiss on the top of her head.  
  
“I know. And I was doing it right back to you.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Really, I'm looking forward to it. It sounds like loads of fun.”  
  
“It will be. I'll make sure you have a marvelous time. You up for a massage?” he grinned.  
  
“Hmm, dunno. I reckon I'll decide once I see what sort of facility they have.”  
  
“Oh! Yes, of course. But I meant from me. Tonight.”  
  
Her smile grew. “I can't say no to that. My back is a bit sore and I think a massage would do wonders. Specially from you.”  
  
Michael's face flushed a bit. “Alright then. Well, tonight is still quite a few hours away. You had anything to eat in a while?” Lisa's stomach growled loud enough to answer his question. “Suppose not, eh? I couldn't eat another bite, but there's a lovely little cafe at the end of the block we can visit. That way you can get some food in you. How does that strike you?”  
  
“Sounds great.” Her stomach growled again and she groaned. “Let's get down there straight away. I'm so hungry I think I could eat that chair.” She gestured to an ugly brown, molded plastic chair next to the small round table near the window.  
  
Michael frowned and wrinkled his nose. “That doesn't look very appetizing.” He bent and picked her up, walking gingerly toward the door. “Come on, let's get you some real food so you don't damage that poor stomach of yours.”

* * *

 

  
Settling into bed next to Michael, Lisa sighed happily. The cafe they visited turned out to be a tea room of sorts as well, and had quite good food. Still not wanting to push it after her stomach distress early in the morning, she opted for something bland: a large scone dotted with currants and a cup of chamomile tea. Michael had insisted he was too full to eat anything, but he couldn't resist trying a little bit of the scone along with his cup of coffee. They made note of the cafe and promised to return again before they headed back to England.  
  
Afterwards they did a bit more sight-seeing, this time visiting the Statue of Liberty. It was a beautiful spring day, and the fresh air felt great after she'd spent nearly the whole morning in bed, cooped up in the stuffy hotel room.  
  
They'd had a lovely dinner at a little Italian restaurant nearby and after retiring to the hotel room, Michael fulfilled his promise and gave her a wonderful massage. At some point the massage had turned into some heavy duty making out. Lisa couldn't complain one bit; she enjoyed being intimate with Michael. It didn't last nearly as long as she'd hoped, though, as he managed to fall asleep after a while. Lisa wasn't sure if it was due to his quite evident arousal, the three-quarters of a bottle of wine he'd finished off at dinner, or both. She hoped it was the former. Michael's drinking sometimes concerned her a bit, but it wasn't anywhere near the amount she'd seen Graham drink and he at least seemed to be in control of it.  
  
She gazed at him fondly and then bent to move his hair back from his cheek and give him a soft kiss. His nose seemed to twitch in response and his lips curved upward in a faint smile that made her heart melt.  
  
She finally eased her head down onto her pillow and sighed happily. Her thoughts then turned to this party going on in less than two days. She hoped they could handle the excitement. She decided not to let it nag away at her and allowed herself to drift off easily into slumber.


	3. Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fame, bully for you, chilly for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the details from this I'd found in an entry or two of Michael's Diaries, and a few others (like the party guests and even several of the songs playing in the background) I found in video footage of the Holy Grail premiere party. Suppose I left it on a cliffhanger but don't worry, I will update soon. :) Thanks to anyone who's still following this one.

A shirtless Michael ran a hand through his hair and sighed, gazing into the wardrobe. He had brought several dressier outfits with him, but was absolutely stuck on what to wear to this party, which, by the way, was happening in just over an hour.   
  
He couldn't believe how fast the last day and a half had flown by. On Saturday evening, he and Lisa had joined the other Pythons for dinner at a rather ritzy place to which Eric had been tipped off by an employee from his own hotel. This dinner had stretched on a bit longer than they'd expected (what was that old adage about time flying when you're having fun?), and the next morning Michael had been rudely forced out of bed earlier than he'd liked. He'd received a call that people were already queuing up outside the theater for Holy Grail and had been doing so since half past five. He'd quickly showered, shaved and dressed, and was about to leave when he stupidly realized that Lisa was still sound asleep. He'd hated to leave her yet again, but he had no choice in the matter. He'd left a sweet little note for her on the bedside table and given her a kiss.  
  
The whole theater affair had been a bit frenetic. They'd only had one person on security detail, and so Michael and the others were rushed into a small space akin to a broom closet as they waited for people to be ushered into the theater in an orderly fashion. They slapped on happy faces, handed out coconuts and basically acted the way they assumed people would expect them to. It was nice to meet regular people who seemed to appreciate their brand of zany humor, but in the end Michael found it to be a tiring ordeal. He breathed a sigh of relief when their work was finally done and he was able to return to the hotel and his loving wife.  
  
As trying as it was, he almost couldn't believe that picking an appropriate outfit proved even more of a challenge. He didn't want to wear anything that was too boring or stuffy, nor anything that was too flashy.   
  
He sighed again and Lisa obviously had heard him. She gazed at him curiously as she reached for her own outfit. “Michael? What is it?”  
  
“Oh, it's a bit silly … I have no idea what I should wear to this affair.” He looked at her awkwardly. She must have thought of him as a little old wash-woman, agonizing like this over his choice of clothing.  
  
Lisa looked inside the wardrobe for a moment and then her face lit up in a smile, having found a certain shirt he was sure he'd buried in the back. She took it out and held it in front of her. “How about this?”  
  
Michael felt his cheeks grow hot. It was a white button-down shirt with a sort of gray-and-blue electric pattern of dots. A new shirt he hadn't even worn yet, he'd packed it on Lisa's urging and decided he'd pretend he'd forgotten about it. He didn't really have anything against the shirt per se, but it still seemed a bit … loud. “Oh, no, no, I really don't think-”  
  
“Why not? I think it would look great on you. It's modern, it's sophisticated, and if you're worried that it's a bit too flashy, pairing it with this would tone it down.” She took out his black suit jacket and dark gray trousers, holding the shirt in front of them.  
  
Michael looked at the combination and decided it wasn't that bad after all. The black would mute the pattern a bit, especially if he kept his jacket buttoned. He smiled and took the articles of clothing from her. “You know, you're right. What would I do without you, Lisa?” He gave her a little one-armed hug.  
  
“You'd end up a fashion nightmare,” she teased, giving him a wink. Michael gave her a mock hurt expression and she laughed.  
  
He headed into the bathroom, placing the clothes on a hook and was about to change when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. How did his hair manage to get so rumpled? He reached for his comb on the edge of the sink and ran it through the hair on the top of his head. Perhaps it was because he was hurrying a bit, but he got more and more aggravated as his hair kept flopping into his eyes. Grabbing the comb again, he combed it straight down. He was a bit shocked to realize that his hair had come practically halfway down his nose. Had it really been that long since he'd cut it, or at least had a trim? For a handful of years now, Michael had liked his hair on the long side and he didn't think that was going to change anytime soon. Even so, he'd always taken care to make sure it wouldn't allow him to go blind.  
  
He did all he could to keep it out of his eyes – parting it different ways, combing it to the side, but it still got in his eyes. He noticed that Lisa hadn't brought any hairspray, and he hadn't brought any sort of pomade with him. How on earth did he manage to keep it from bothering him the past few days? Some sort of combing trick, he surmised, but he hadn't been able to replicate it now no matter what. He groaned.  
  
“Michael?”   
  
“I can't keep my hair out of my eyes,” Michael called out. The whine in his voice made him wince inwardly. He didn't mean to sound that pathetic.  
  
Lisa entered the bathroom and looked at him expectantly.  
  
Michael grabbed his long bangs and pushed them down over his eyes so she'd see.  “We have about an hour before the party. There's a hair stylist's several blocks away; I remember passing it when we got back from dinner the other night. I wonder if I have time,” he recited quickly, his mind flying into action.  
  
Lisa seemed a bit worried. “Oh, I really don't think you should, Michael...”  
  
He lifted an eyebrow. “I just want a little trim, Lisa. I'm not about to ask them to scalp me, short back and sides, that sort of thing.”  
  
Lisa's eyes widened, as if she'd had a sudden realization. “Why don't you let me trim it?”  
  
Michael blinked at her. “They have scissors there.”  
  
Lisa rolled her eyes and gave him her yeah-very-funny laugh. She headed back into the main room and returned with the travel kit they'd been given. “There's a small pair of scissors in here. You really think I would offer if I wasn't equipped?” She grinned. “The rest of your hair looks perfectly fine. If it's flopping in your eyes, all I have to do is trim the fringe a little.”  
  
Michael sighed and glanced at his watch. Time was fleeting by, and he didn't want to risk cutting it too close with a hairstylist – no pun intended. He conceded that Lisa had trimmed his hair on other occasions when he didn't have time to visit the barber, and she'd done a good job. “Alright.” His lips quirked upward in a slight grin. “'Course you know I will be expecting a lolly after you've finished.”   
  
“I'll be sure to get you one if you're extra good,” she winked, leading him to the bathroom.   
  
Once there, Michael was instructed to sit on the edge of the toilet while she placed a towel around his neck. As she snipped away and small bits of hair fell onto his nose, he wrinkled it all around like a bunny, resulting in laughter from Lisa. He knew she was trying to do her best and was perhaps a bit nervous so he wanted to ease the tension.  
  
It didn't take very long at all. Once she whisked the towel off, he turned and gazed at his reflection, running his fingers through his hair. All in all, she'd done a good job. She'd only taken about half an inch – if even that – off his bangs, but when swept off to the side they were more out of his eyes and it made a big difference.   
  
He sighed happily. “Much, much better. Thank you, love.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek and giggled slightly as he caught her beaming. She left to replace the travel kit and he proceeded to get dressed, the trousers followed by the shirt. His glance wandered to the doorway and he found Lisa standing there, eyeing him appreciatively. Turning back to the mirror, he started making funny poses as if he were a model posing for a photo shoot; a real twit of a model who was in love with himself, perhaps. He started pulling some rather smug looking faces. He heard Lisa giggle and he smiled.  
  
“See? You look marvelous,” she said, entering the room and wrapping her arms around his waist.   
Michael turned and regarded her appreciatively. “I have a lot to live up to – being married to a girl as beautiful as you.” He watched as Lisa ducked her head and blushed, a shy smile on her face. She was wearing a white peasant blouse with ruffles down the front and cap sleeves, along with a dark red skirt that fell to just above her knees. Her eyes were rimmed with a bit of eye shadow that brought out the specks of green in them wonderfully, and her loose, natural brown waves of hair tumbled down her back.  
  
She suddenly lifted her head and returned her gaze to him. “Hm, I wonder if you should actually keep that open,” she said, pointing to his shirt which had yet to be buttoned.  
  
Michael blushed. “Oh, no, I really don't think so,” he insisted, shaking his head adamantly. He quickly lowered his head and began buttoning it all the way up.  
  
Lisa rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “You don't think that's a bit much? What about this?” She unbuttoned the top two.  
  
Michael stared at her, amused. “Alright, I reckon that's a suitable compromise.” He playfully grabbed the end of her nose and gave her another kiss. “The car we're sharing with Eric and Terry will be here any minute, so shall we be off?”  
  
“Indeed we shall,” she announced playfully, grabbing her purse as they headed toward the door to exit.   
  
As they made their way downstairs, Michael studied her intently. She seemed to be all confidence, but he could tell underneath that she was still a bit nervous. He hoped the party would a good experience for them. No, it had to be. Yes, all that glitz could be a bit overwhelming, but hopefully it wouldn't be too grand an affair. Whatever the case, he was determined to make sure she enjoyed herself.  


* * *

  
Lisa looked around the large, open, dimly lit lounge area of the Relaxation Plus and smiled shyly. She'd never been to a massage parlor before and this one in particular was certainly an interesting looking place. The staff already seemed especially nice and attentive.  
  
Whomever had thrown this party seemed to have planned it well. There were young men – probably  the age of university students, Lisa surmised – dressed in costume as knights from the movie, one of them even as Sir Galahad. Of course, no one made the costume look better than Michael did, but she admired their dedication. They'd also had a good selection of music playing in the background. In the just over half an hour they'd been there, Lisa had heard Patti LaBelle's “Lady Marmalade”, “Work to Do” by the Average White Band, and a couple of David Bowie songs – one that was fairly new that she'd heard before, and another that was completely new to her. Something to do with fame and what it could do. Seemed appropriate, in some odd, ironic sense.  
  
They had also met quite a variety of famous and not-quite-famous people since they'd first arrived. She and Michael had seen Dick Cavett as well as some nice young people who were part of an up-and-coming comedy troupe, the name of which quickly escaped her. They all seemed very pleasant, and, in the case of the comedy people, a bit quirky and funny as well. She was her usual, shy self of course, but after Michael had made the introductions and carried on the bulk of conversation, she felt a lot more comfortable. Most of these folks hadn't spent very long talking to them, actually, and had moved on to do a lot of chatting with other guests. It was all well and good with Lisa, although she expected they'd probably be back to talk more.  
  
Oh, and the lads from Led Zeppelin had shown up, too. When Michael said this was a big deal, he hadn't exaggerated. Lisa's jaw dropped when she recognized Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. Michael must have noticed her reaction as she heard him giggle softly. She turned to find him gazing at her affectionately.   
  
“Shall I introduce you?” he asked her softly.  
  
Lisa felt her mouth go bone dry but she nodded quickly. She was quite a fan of their music and never thought she would actually see them in person. She felt Michael take hold of her arm and guide her over to the two rock stars. She swallowed to get the knot out of her throat and hoped she wouldn't do anything to embarrass herself or Michael.  
  
As usual, she needn't have worried. Michael had started up a conversation in his usual, easy way, and had introduced them to his wife. Both men were quite friendly and charming, in a cool, laid-back way. Lisa tried to keep her cool and luckily had succeeded. They'd spoken with them for several minutes before two bespectacled, silly looking guys with huge mops of hair interrupted and started a conversation with them. Robert and Jimmy smiled apologetically at Mike and Lisa, saying they'd chat later perhaps.   
  
“Thank you, Michael, for making it seem less overwhelming,” Lisa said as they walked away. “For not letting me make a fool out of myself.”  
  
He smiled at her. “Oh, no, love. I had nothing to do with it. You're getting to be pro at this.”  
  
“After only half an hour? I don't think so,” she chuckled in spite of herself. “Come on, that was mainly the Palin Effect at work there – speaking in such a way as to make everyone involved at ease.”  
  
Michael ducked his head slightly as if he were embarrassed. “Oh, please. Don't say that.” He looked back up and grinned. “Well, alright, say it. But I'm not going to be pleased about it.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful swat on the chest, causing him to giggle a bit. “How about a little drink to celebrate?”  
  
“Well, alright.”  
  
He'd left and returned shortly with two glasses of red wine. Smiling, he handed one to Lisa. “To handling one of your first brushes with fame so well.” She laughed as they clinked glasses. Lisa took a quick sip of wine and suddenly started coughing. Oops, maybe she was a bit too hasty.  
  
“You alright?” Michael's smile had quickly faded and he looked at her, concerned.  
  
Lisa was still mired in coughing as she quickly nodded, waving her hand in front of her chest. Michael went around and lightly tapped her on the back. Satisfied the episode had passed, Lisa breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
“What, we got a lightweight here?” a familiar voice drawled. She turned to her left and found one of the big-haired men from earlier staring at her in amusement. He was one of those comedy guys, Davis she thought was his name.  
  
Michael appeared a bit startled and shook his head. “Oh, no, she's--”  
  
“No, I just swallowed the wrong way,” Lisa blurted out, unable to keep the slight annoyance from her voice. She covered it up with an embarrassed smile.  
  
The guy stared at her thoughtfully, his heavy eyelids and nearly empty glass indicating he'd probably had a bit too much to drink already. “'Swallowed the wrong way'?” he repeated, staring at her in amusement as if he'd picked up on some unintentional innuendo.   
  
Lisa immediately felt her cheeks flame. Michael must have understood as well, as he'd cleared his throat and she noticed him giving the guy a warning look.   
  
He finally held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. I get it. Just making sure you're okay, English girl,” he teased, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. “See ya.” He walked away and rejoined his colleague, a shorter guy with an even bigger mop of curly hair and a nasal voice that grated on her slightly.  
  
She turned to Michael and found him gazing at her apologetically. “I'm sorry, that was a bit rude of him. Perhaps he wouldn't have overstepped if he weren't so pissed.”  
  
Lisa nodded, still a bit embarrassed but trying to forget about it.  
  
“Are you uncomfortable? Do you wish to leave and go back to the hotel?” he asked, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.  
  
Lisa appreciated Michael's concern and protectiveness, but despite Davis' foolish behavior, she was still having a good time. She shook her head. “Oh, no. He's just an idiot, or just acting like an idiot, anyway. I've met far too many lovely people here and I'd hate to leave so soon. Please don't give it a second thought, Michael.”  
  
The look in his eyes was one of pure gratefulness. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Alright, but any time you feel you've had enough, tell me. Yeah?”  
  
“I will. But I doubt it will be anytime soon.”  
  
Michael nodded. He then looked down at his empty wine glass. “Think I'll nip down for a refill. You want any?”  
  
She looked at her more than half full glass and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Believe me, I'm fine,” she said cheekily.  
  
Michael laughed and then left to get another glass of wine. On the way over, she saw him get grabbed by one of the men they'd first talked to upon arriving. The man ushered him over to another group of people, and when Lisa saw the white-haired man standing among them, her jaw dropped.  
  
Andy Warhol.  


* * *

  
It was now two hours into the party and the excitement – perhaps better termed 'rowdiness' – had really seemed to build in the last hour or so. After Michael had returned with his third glass of wine, he'd taken her over to meet Andy Warhol and, soon after, Jeff Beck. She liked chatting with all these people, but after a while she started to feel a bit drained, as if she needed to go somewhere and recharge her batteries. The liquor had been free-flowing, but she'd only allowed herself two glasses of wine. After she'd finished the last one someone had offered her more, but she'd politely refused. People kept coming around and the refusal was no longer enough – they'd just fill her glass up, no questions asked. When no one was looking, she surreptitiously dumped it out in the bottom of a three-tiered fountain.  
  
She'd stayed with Michael a good deal, but at times he'd be whisked away to meet someone else or to get back into a long-abandoned conversation. He seemed to be really in his element, chatting up all sorts of different people. Lisa felt she didn't have much to add and truth be told, she was getting rather bored talking with the same people over and over. She did spot the other Pythons at various times. Terry Gilliam was found talking to Andy Warhol as well as several of the masseuses. She'd seen Terry Jones briefly but he then seemed to disappear for a while into the back. One of the girls from that comedy troupe later emerged and gleefully told Lisa that Jonesy just gave her the best massage she'd ever had. She caught Eric mingling mostly with the rock stars, though he seemed at times as if he'd rather be anywhere else. She surmised that he was really missing Cheri.  
  
She'd had a little chat with a local female news personality who then excused herself to get another drink. All alone, she scanned the room for Michael. She found him near the opposite corner of the lounge area, talking animatedly to that girl from the comedy troupe – Glenda, or Gilda? Something like that. She did a double take, finding his shirt now completely unbuttoned, exposing his chest. “And earlier he was so dead set against it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Someone was filling up his glass and he didn't seem to refuse. Just observing him for that short time, she could tell he'd had more than enough. She bit her lip worriedly.  
  
“Hey!” a voice suddenly interrupted, tearing her away from her thoughts.  
  
She turned and found a young guy, probably in his early twenties. He was about Michael's height with an athletic build, fair skin and lots of curly red hair. He was wearing a knight costume with a tunic resembling that of Sir Lancelot. He smiled broadly at her, exposing some rather large teeth. “How ya doin'?” he drawled, sounding as if he'd had too much to drink himself.  
  
Lisa cleared her throat awkwardly and forced a shy smile. “Hello.”  
  
“My name's Don. What's yours?”  
  
“Er... Lisa.”  
  
Don nodded. “So, Lisa … enjoying yourself?”  
  
“Um, sure. Really happening party, as you Yanks probably say,” she chuckled, blushing a bit.  
  
Don's mouth cracked open in a huge grin. “Yeah, somethin' like that.” He stopped and seemed to be looking her over. His eyes bore right into hers. “You're a pretty lady.”  
  
Lisa avoided his gaze and nodded, managing a lopsided smile.   
  
“And that accent of yours … Guess you can tell I haven't met many English chicks, huh?  
  
“Mm-hm,” she said quietly. His eyes seemed to be traveling down to her chest. 'Michael, where are you?' she heard a tiny voice from deep inside her whisper.  
  
“So you said you were enjoying yourself.”  
  
“Yes, very much ...” She finally allowed herself to look back up at him. The look in his eyes made her squirm inwardly.  
  
“Want to enjoy yourself even more?”


	4. Fame makes a man take things over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fame lets him loose, hard to swallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is where the attempted rape/non-con warning comes into play. It's not overly graphic, but I wanted to warn you anyway so I don't get any flaming messages. And yes, I know Michael is acting like a bit of an idiot here but believe me, he will be VERY sorry that he was.

  
“Er … Excuse me?” Lisa coughed.  
  
Don leered at her. “I said, want to enjoy yourself even more? You look like you're up for some fun.”  
  
Lisa's eyes widened. This guy was doing some heavy duty flirting. Hadn't he seen her with Michael at all? She recalled he had stood by the door as people were arriving. Her eyes found Michael, who was still engaged in spirited conversation with a handful of people. “Really, thank you, but I'm married. In fact, my husband is over there.” She pointed in Michael's direction.  
  
She risked a glance back at Don. His expression was dubious. “That's your husband? Then why the hell ain't he with you??”  
  
She groaned inwardly. “He's _mingling_.”  
  
Don scoffed and assumed a challenging stance, smirking. “I don't think that's really your husband, girlie.” Lisa tried to back away from him, looking around for the girl with whom she'd just been chatting, but she was nowhere in sight. As she moved, Don moved with her. No, he was not intent on letting her go.  
  
She wasn't intent on keeping him engaged, though. “He _is_ ,” she insisted. Turning again toward Michael, she tried desperately to get his attention. “Michael??” she called, raising her voice as much as possible over all the crowd noise.  
  
Michael was talking up a blue streak and laughing along with the group of maybe five people he was standing with, and failed to acknowledge her.  
  
Lisa moved a bit in his direction, assuming Don was still with her, and waved frantically. “ _MICHAEL!!_ ”  
  
Finally Michael turned toward her, a huge grin on his face. He was clearly inebriated. “LISHA!” he slurred. “Great party, innit, love?”  
She felt Don take hold of her arm and she whirled around, staring at him wide-eyed. “What are you doing??” she hissed, taking her arm away and letting it fall at her side.  
  
“Come on, this place is dead. Let's go in back. I'll give you a massage,” Don said forcefully, tugging on her arm again.  
  
Lisa looked to Michael again, pleading with her eyes for help. Unfortunately, he was still totally oblivious even as he looked at her.  
  
“You should talk with theesh guys, they're outrageous!” he enthused drunkenly, pointing to several young guys who were part of the crowd chatting with him. “And thish guy ish great, really ...”  
  
Lisa dug her heels in as Don started dragging her away. “Um, Michael, maybe you should --”  
  
“Okay, love, I'll shee you later,” Michael nodded to her, giggling.  
  
She tried to resist, but Don was strong. She couldn't believe no one at the party seemed to notice or care. Then again, they all seemed pretty pissed and too absorbed in conversation. And thanks to all the playful, raunchy behavior occurring thus far, it probably didn't seem out of the ordinary to them. But it really upset her that Michael didn't seem to notice.  
  
He led her back to some of the more private rooms where massages were given. He was standing so close to her and the hallway was so narrow, escape seemed virtually impossible. Stopping in front of a dark, wooden door bearing the number “6”, he pushed it open and dragged Lisa inside.  
  
Lisa barely had time to study the room. It was done in a typical dark, gaudy fashion. There was a bed with a wild, colorful pattern on the bedspread, a side table with a lamp, and large curtains tied back from the window with thick, braided yellow rope. The window also featured small blinds that were all drawn. Realizing what he must have had planned, a shiver went up her back. Lisa first instinct was to wiggle out of Don's grip and make a run for the door, but he beat her there and slammed it shut. He gave her a sleazy grin and shook his finger at her. He clamped his hands down on her shoulders, then lifted one hand to caress her face.  
  
Lisa thrust her arm up, grabbing his hand and knocking it away. “Look, you can't do this. I told you I'm married,” she insisted.  
  
“And that's the biggest line of bull I've heard tonight, sweetheart,” Don replied, leering at her some more. Lisa finally thrust her left hand in front of him, showing off her wedding ring. Don eyed it for a second and then laughed dismissively. “That don't mean _nothin'_ to me. That little thing?”  
  
Lisa narrowed her eyes at him, feeling stung by what he'd said about the ring Michael had given her when they first professed their love for each other. “My husband is Michael Palin, you know, one of the actors in the film? The chap who played Dennis, and Sir Galahad, and --”  
  
“The 'pure' guy? Well, there's your problem, miss. You don't want a guy who's got those pesky vows of chastity. What _you_ need ...”  
  
He suddenly thrust forward, undoing the couple of buttons at the top of her blouse and pulling it down along with her sleeves. Lisa gasped and raised her hand, slapping him in the face.  
  
Don appeared stunned for only a brief moment, then another sleazy grin spread across his face. “Oh, so you like it rough, huh?”  
  
Lisa's gaze quickly flitted over to the door and she tried to move away from him, but he suddenly grabbed her roughly. Her scream was drowned out as he kissed her hard. She felt nausea welling up within her as she felt his tongue enter her mouth and tasted an acrid mix of alcohol and tobacco. She tried to lift her leg in a kick, but he held her fast with one hand as the other reached down and roughly pulled at her skirt. He'd succeeded in getting it pulled down halfway, exposing her underwear.  
  
Lisa continued to struggle against his grip and started to scream again when he grabbed her face and covered her mouth with his lips again, kissing her roughly. Led Zeppelin's “Stairway to Heaven” was playing in the background, a song she normally liked, but Robert Plant's yelling at this particular point in the song just added to the tension and panic that was going through her. She tried everything to free herself from Don. She attempted to knee him in the groin, but he was too fast and rough.  
  
He knocked her down on the bed, holding her tight so she couldn't move. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent scream as his hand found its way into her underwear and he began touching her inappropriately. Two of his pudgy fingers inserted themselves into her vulva and she felt as though she would vomit. She let out the loudest scream she could until he clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shut up,” he snapped before he went back to his handiwork. She bit her lip, hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. This creep was attacking her, and Michael was nowhere in sight. She was living a nightmare.  
  
Through her panic she suddenly heard footsteps. Could it actually be Michael? Another party goer? One of the staff? She hoped it was someone who could help and not a pal of Don's. The footsteps got closer and stopped outside the door. Her eyes focused on the doorknob as it began to turn. 'Oh, please. Please help,” she pleaded silently.  
  
The door opened. Before the intruder made their presence known, she heard a familiar voice. “Oh, sorry, I didn't ...”  
  
He entered and her heart overflowed with relief upon seeing a familiar face.  
  
Eric.

* * *

  
  
Eric stopped short, stunned when he found Lisa on the bed in one of the massage rooms with a young man dressed as John's main character in the film. He'd originally come back here to escape, getting a bit bored and deciding he'd had enough of the party. He'd heard some commotion and a scream, but he assumed someone was having a grand old time, nothing more.  
  
His felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw Lisa in such distress. Her face was flushed, her eyes were tearing, and her underwear was pulled halfway down her legs. The guy had a wild look in his eyes, probably well pissed and happy to take advantage of an innocent girl. It didn't look like he'd actually had sex with her, but whatever he'd done, Lisa was in a panic.  
   
The guy turned around and eyed Eric angrily. “Get the hell out of here!!” he shouted.  
  
Eric glared at him severely. “No, _you_ get the fuck away from her!!” he demanded.  
  
Don started to rise. “Or what?!” he challenged.  
  
Thinking quick, Eric grabbed the lamp off the small table, rushed forward and smashed it over Don's head, knocking him to the floor, unconscious. He then looked at the curtains, seeing them tied back with strong cords. He removed them and bent to tie Don up with them.  
  
He heard Lisa panting and his gaze flew over to her, staring in shock at Don's limp body lying on the floor. She pulled her underwear and skirt back up and ran over to Eric. “Oh, my God!!! Eric!! Oh, my God,” she cried, a huge amount of relief evident in her voice.  
  
“Lisa,” Eric started, gathering her into a hug. “Christ, what happened?” He began cradling her in his arms and he gazed at her sadly as her eyes overflowed with tears. If the situation were different, he'd hope she wouldn't get the wrong idea, especially after what had happened a few months ago. But he didn't give a shit at the moment; she looked as if she really needed comfort.  
  
Lisa sniffled, her tears still flowing freely. She looked like she couldn't form the words and simply shook her head.  
  
Eric felt tears welling up deep inside him. He gazed back at Don and decided they should go somewhere else, lest he'd wake up. “Come on,” he coaxed her softly. He started to stand and with a hand guiding her, helped pull her up off the floor. As they exited, he made a mental note of the room number in order to notify the police.  
  
He escorted her to another empty room further down the hallway. Once inside, she sunk to the floor and he sat down with her, holding her. “Tell me what happened.”  
  
Lisa had composed herself slightly and nodded. “He found me at the party while a girl I'd been speaking with had left to get another drink. He started making small talk at first, but then he got a bit flirty. He asked if I was enjoying myself and if I wanted to enjoy myself 'even more.'” Her monotone, somewhat detached voice became uneasy. “He started dragging me away. I kept trying to break free of him, but he was so … forceful.” She scrunched up her face in disgust. “No one at the party seemed to notice. He led me back here into that room. I kept telling him that I'm married to Michael, but it was as if he wouldn't believe me, you know? He forced himself upon me. He grabbed me, kissed me hard, tried to pull my clothes off, and, he... well...” Her eyes drifted down to her nether regions and she broke down into tears again.  
  
Tears pricked at the corners of Eric's eyes. He couldn't believe his good friend had been taken advantage of in such a way. “What a fucking bastard,” he said, his voice a bit uneven. He planted a kiss in her hair and held her close. “It's alright, darling. It's alright.”  
  
Lisa leaned into Eric, appearing grateful he was here to comfort her. She suddenly lifted her head from his shoulder. “And you know what the worst of it is? He started hitting on me when we were all in the lounge area, and Michael didn't even notice. I kept looking to him for help, calling out to him, and he was just so preoccupied with … whomever those people were. And I think he had far to much to drink as well. I just … ugh! It was as if he didn't even care.” She lowered her head and begun to cry again.  
  
Eric sighed, gazing at her sadly. He really felt for Lisa and he knew how much she loved and depended on Michael. But he also knew how much Michael really loved her. “Lisa, listen to me. Mike would never, ever think that. He loves you so much. I know that when he finds out, he'll be really upset. And pissed off. That Yank had better watch his back.”  
  
Lisa eyed him seriously, almost incredulously.  
  
“Yeah, I know, we all take the piss out of him for being 'the nice one,' but you know how he is when he's pushed too far. The 'Palin Wrath' is not a pretty sight.” He uttered a short, humorless laugh, having endured Michael's wrath at various times over the past year.  
  
Lisa stared ahead and nodded. Eric lightly touched her shoulder, causing her to turn back towards him. “Feeling a little better now?” he asked hopefully. Maybe that was a stupid question. She was obviously traumatized by what that guy had done to her. But he hoped that talking to her and showing her he cared helped calm her.  
  
She looked up at him with the biggest, saddest pair of bluish-green-gray eyes he'd ever seen. She slowly nodded.  
  
Eric felt his lips tug upward in a slight smile. He patted her on the shoulder and then helped her stand up. “Come on, let's get out of here. We need to have a chat with the staff, tell them what happened and phone the police.”  
  
Lisa nodded. As they exited the room, Eric risked a glance at his watch. It was nearly a quarter to eight. He wasn't too sure how long this party was supposed to last, but surely there were still people there. He held Lisa's hand as they made their way down the corridor and out into the open lounge area.  
  
Looking around, Eric wrinkled his nose slightly. It looked as if the party had wrapped up some time ago. There were bits of drink still left in glasses, some that had tipped over, and there were even bits of food still around on top of tables. It seemed the cleaning staff had just started sweeping and mopping up. Eric frowned. There wasn't any sign of the other Pythons or any of the other guests. Finally spotting the manager, he breathed a sigh of relief. Nodding at Lisa, they headed in his direction.  
  
They told him about what Don had done, Eric electing to do most of the talking as Lisa still seemed very upset. He did let her fill in the important details, however. After apologizing to Lisa profusely, the manager phoned the police and they arrived within a few minutes. Eric directed them to the room in which Don, now fully conscious and struggling against his rope bonds, was located. They spent a few minutes questioning both Lisa and Eric, and had taken Don down to the station. They both gave the police the details of where they were staying and were told the police chief would be in contact if they needed any more information.  
  
After that ordeal, Lisa seemed to be scanning the room as if she was still hoping Michael was there. Eric asked the manager where Michael had gone and was told he'd found a ride back to the hotel with Terry Jones – or so he had said.  
  
Eric watched Lisa's face fall and saw the hurt in her eyes. “He must have been pretty pissed if he just went back with Jonesy and didn't even look for you. I know he will really regret it once he comes to his senses.” Lisa simply leaned into him, looking so lost it broke his heart. He gave her another little kiss on the top of her head. “Here, I'll ride back with you to your hotel.” Lisa simply nodded, appearing grateful that she didn't have to go alone.

 

* * *

  
Eric quickly handed a tip to the cabbie as they exited the taxi, heading across the pavement toward Lisa's hotel. The sun was setting and the breeze had picked up. Lisa wrapped her arms around her and appeared to be shivering slightly. Eric wasn't sure if it was from the breeze, the ordeal she'd just been through, or both. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they made their way up to the hotel door.  
  
As they stepped inside, Eric scanned the lobby, hoping for some sign of Michael. When that search came up fruitless, he turned to Lisa and saw disappointment etched across her face. She was still not in good spirits obviously and Eric didn't feel comfortable about leaving her alone. “Alright if I take you up to your room?” He half dreaded her answer, hoping she didn't think he was being too pushy.  
  
Luckily he didn't have to worry. “Of course,” she nodded. With that, they headed toward the elevator.  
  
Arriving in front of her and Michael's room, Eric knocked tentatively, expecting Michael to answer. He didn't. To be sure, Eric called out his name, but again received no answer. He looked at Lisa and shrugged. Did they have to stand outside the door now until Michael arrived back from wherever he was?  
  
Fortunately, Lisa had her own copy of the key. She removed it from her purse, unlocked the door and let Eric in. Eric gazed around the room, a bit impressed at how nice it was compared to his fairly drab single room. He half expected to find Michael passed out on the bed, but there was no sign of him in the room at all.  
  
“Looks like he didn't make it back yet,” Eric thought out loud, then felt like kicking himself for stating the obvious and potentially worrying Lisa more.  
  
Lisa laughed humorlessly as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I can see that, Eric. I wonder if he and Terry picked up a couple of women somewhere. Maybe even one that's more attractive than me.”  
  
Eric regarded her incredulously and then felt his heart breaking all over again. He sat down next to her. “Lisa, knock it off. Stop beating yourself up like that,” he gently admonished her. “Mike loves you more than anything; I know he does.” He softened a bit. “I wonder if he and Jonesy had too much to drink and are puking all over the pavement somewhere.” His mouth twitched upward in a lopsided grin. Lisa gave a brief laugh that made Eric smile. “Look, everything will be fine.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then moved to get off the bed when Lisa stopped him.  
  
“Eric, could you stay a bit longer? I … I really don't want to be alone,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with fear.  
  
Eric conceded to himself that it was the best course of action. He really didn't feel comfortable about leaving her all alone just yet and he was glad that she wanted his company. “Alright,” he nodded, sitting back down. He laid back, taking Lisa into his arms.  
  
She turned to him and looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, Eric, for being such a good friend.” She smiled weakly.  
  
“Anytime, darling,” he responded quietly, stroking her hair. Lisa leaned her head back on Eric and within a few minutes, had dozed off into a peaceful sleep. Eric turned and smiled. He felt utterly awful for what had been done to her and he was glad he could be here for her as a friend.  
  
He didn't know how long they'd stayed like this until he saw the early morning sunlight leaking through the curtains, heard the knob twisting and watched the door open.  
  
The visitor soon made their presence known, and Eric jumped, startled … which resulted in Lisa waking and also jumping with a start.  
  
“Eric, what the fuck are you doing in our room?!”


	5. Fame?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could it be the best, could it be? Really be, really, babe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. I hope I treated the situation in a sensitive enough way. If you don't believe I did, kindly tell me, but PLEASE, no nasty flames. I realize it's a sensitive subject, and even though Lisa's situation wasn't as bad as it could have been, I know it's still something about which people can be really sensitive. This is the first fic like this that I've written. Constructive criticism is fine, but again I won't accept flames and I'll disable commenting if it happens at least once. Thanks to those who've stuck with this story and the people who've given me kudos. I'm so glad you've liked reading it as much as I did writing it. :)

Lisa felt her heart leap into her throat as she witnessed Michael standing in front of them, looking at them suspiciously. His clothes were slightly rumpled and his hair seemed a bit out of sorts, as if it had been more disheveled before but he'd tried to smooth it down. He didn't appear as sloshed as he had at the party. Perhaps he'd sobered up a bit. She realized how close she was sitting to Eric and if the situation had been different, she'd really hope that Michael didn't get the wrong idea. But none of that really mattered now; she was still very hurt that he'd been so oblivious to her distress.  
  
She turned to Eric and watched him move away from her and straighten up off the bed. He was looking at Michael accusingly. “What the fuck am I doing in your room?? What the fuck were _you_ doing, taking off without your wife and leaving some randy piece of shit to nearly rape her?!!”  
  
“ _Don't_ you get all melodramatic and----- wh-WHAT??” Michael's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He turned to Lisa in shock and she met his gaze, nodding.  
  
“The disgusting bloke dressed as Sir Lancelot accosted me, forced himself on me.” She inwardly winced at the way her voice sounded so raw and tired. But it matched the way she was feeling. “He dragged me back to one of the rooms and he ...” She trailed off, not sure how she could possibly continue.  
  
Michael still appeared in a state of shock. For several seconds he didn't say anything. “Did he hurt you?” he squeaked out.  
  
“Um ….” Lisa lowered her gaze. How could she answer such a question? No, he didn't quite hurt her physically, but emotionally was another story. She felt tears welling up in her eyes again.  
  
She looked back up at Michael. He still appeared shocked, but there was something else as well. Lisa had seen it before and recognized it right away. He was in the middle of an emotional overload. “I …” he stuttered.  
  
Lisa followed his gaze over toward Eric, who was standing with his arms folded across his chest, glaring expectantly at Michael.  
  
Michael said not a word; instead, he quickly rushed to the door, opened it and quickly left.  
  
Lisa stared at the door, dumbfounded. She was now at a loss for words herself. She'd barely managed to explain, and he was now gone …  
  
“He's upset,” Eric said softly, looking back at her. “I've known him gone eight years now and that's exactly how he reacts when he's upset.”  
  
Lisa nodded slowly. She'd vaguely known that about Michael, how he tried as hard as possible to avoid confrontation, and it was really on display now. She also wondered if Michael was feeling guilty over his behavior at the party, that perhaps this could have been prevented. She uttered a cry of frustration; she just wanted her brain to shut up. She'd felt so lost right now.  
  
She heard Eric approach her and sit down on the bed next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It's as much of a shock to him as it was to us,” Eric told her sagely. “I could see it in his face. Look, I'm going to go and talk to him.” Lisa gazed up at him and relaxed slightly off his look of reassurance. “I know there is so much you want to say to him, but let me have a go at it first. I want him to tell me what possessed him to act like such a stupid git last night.”  
  
“Do you even know where he went?”  
  
“I have a pretty good idea,” Eric replied. “I'll bring him straight up here and then I promise I won't interfere any longer.”  
  
Lisa smiled weakly and gave Eric a small hug. “Eric, I can't thank you enough for being such a good friend. I really appreciate this.”  
  
Eric smiled back. “Anytime, Lisa. I'll get him back to you swiftly, you hear me?” He winked.  
  
Lisa felt a relieved chuckle bubble up inside her and she nodded as Eric headed for the door and stepped outside.

* * *

 

  
Michael sat at a small table in the hotel's lounge, drinking a cup of coffee and nursing a really bad headache. He'd just popped a couple of aspirin and was hoping they'd take the edge off soon. What the hell had he gotten himself into last night? He was having a great time at the party, meeting and chatting with so many different people. He vaguely remembered enjoying a good drink or two or three; those two or three had somehow multiplied down the line, apparent from the bad hangover he was dealing with this morning.  
  
And what had happened with Lisa? He'd thought she was having a good time, even though they had split up and found different groups of people throughout the evening. He'd vaguely remembered some chap in a knight costume talking to her and grabbing her hand, but he thought he was just being silly. Hell, everyone at this party seemed to be having fun in one way or another, even some of the naughty persuasion.  
  
Now he felt extremely guilty. Lisa had actually been attacked, practically under his nose, and he was too oblivious to stop it. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, tossing his bangs back from his face.  
  
He suddenly heard footsteps approach. Without looking up, he knew who it was. “Eric? Please tell me this didn't actually happen,” he said miserably.  
  
“I can't.”  
  
Michael put his half-empty cup of coffee down and finally risked a glance up at Eric. He was gazing down at Michael seriously. Sighing in defeat, Michael gestured for him to sit down. Eric pulled out the chair opposite from him and took a seat.  
  
“I have no idea what to say,” Michael told him quietly. “What exactly happened last night?”  
  
“Why don't you go back upstairs with me and let your wife tell you?”  
  
“Fuck, Eric. I can't do that,” Michael muttered. “I can't face her. Not yet. My God, I cocked up so badly.”  
  
Overcome with emotion and anger at himself, Michael slammed his hand down on the table. Slamming it a bit too hard, he gave a little yelp and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Served him right. He glanced up at Eric momentarily and caught a little wince from him. He seemed to be regarding Mike with an ounce of sympathy now as well.  
  
“How could I do this?” Michael continued angrily. “I let Lisa be put in danger like that. What sort of husband does that make me?” He sighed in frustration and sadness. “I don't think there is any way she can forgive me; I don't think there will ever be.” He bit his lip. Hearing a sound of disbelief from Eric, his directed his gaze back to the taller man.  
  
“Mike, stop it. Just stop,” Eric admonished him firmly. “She loves you. She was worried that you no longer loved her.”  
  
At this, Michael felt his heart shatter. “I _do_ love her, Eric.”  
  
“Then why didn't you even look for her when you were leaving?” Eric blurted out.  
  
Michael's face grew hot. He sighed again, covering his face with his hands and then scrubbing them through his hair. “I did look about the room for her, but she didn't turn up. Reckoned she was in the toilet. I was so pissed and then Terry suggested doing something really daft as the night was still young. He suggested this crazy jaunt across the city, wanted to frolic through Central Park and chat up a horse.” He gave a humorless laugh. Looking back at Eric, he saw his lips twitch into an amused little grin for just a moment. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Anyway, I don't remember much of what we did; only that Terry fell into a fountain in the park and was reprimanded by a policeman who couldn't stop laughing.” He stopped and chuckled briefly at the memory, glancing cautiously at Eric who had joined him.  
  
“I can't imagine Jonesy is in a very good humor this morning,” Eric said, amused.  
  
“I've no idea where he got to, actually. Reckon he's got a hangover just as bad as I do,” Michael said, still feeling the blush in his cheeks. His smile faded and he stared at Eric, feeling the intense wave of sadness and guilt overtaking him again. “Eric, I love Lisa so much. I feel absolutely gutted for what happened to her. If I hadn't let myself get so plastered and so involved with all these people, I would have been able to stop it. I don't know how I can make it up to her.” He lowered his gaze, suddenly taking an interest in the pattern on the tablecloth.  
  
“Talk to her,” Eric said simply. “If you love her and feel so bloody awful for what happened, talk to her. Show her you care. Let her tell you about it. Let her cry on your shoulder if she needs it.”  
  
Michael gazed at Eric for a moment. His friend was right. She had started to explain, but the shock and guilt was so overwhelming, he couldn't deal with it at the time and had to escape. He felt absolutely horrible. After what happened, she needed his support more than ever. How could he be so selfish?  
  
He allowed himself a faint smile. “You're right. Thanks for your services, Doctor Eric. It is very much appreciated.”  
  
Eric nodded and then quirked an eyebrow. “By 'services' you mean of the 'advice' persuasion, I take it. 'Cos don't forget you are married, mate. How exactly would we explain this to your wife?”  
  
Michael snorted and then playfully swatted him. “Enough of that, you silly git.”  
  
Eric laughed briefly. “So, you alright to go back up there? Or is the hangover still making you feel like absolute shit?”  
  
Mike sighed. “I still have a pissing awful headache, but apart from that I'm alright. I need to talk with her and own up to what I've done. I really hope she can forgive me.”  
  
Eric smiled. “I'm sure she can, Mike.” He got up and made his way around to Mike, patting him on the shoulder. Michael winced and hoped the aspirin tablets he took would finally do their job. “Come on,” Eric coaxed him. “Need help standing up?”  
  
Michael rolled his eyes. “No. I'm not dying, you know.” He stood up and moved away from the table.  
  
“Just checking,” Eric said cheekily.  
  
Michael walked ahead of him and stuck two fingers up at him behind his back. He heard Eric chuckle and felt a grin tug at his lips. Suddenly a thought came to him and he turned around to face Eric. “Can you wait here a tic? I want to nip down to the florist's a few doors down.”  
  
“Er...?” Eric started before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Sure, no problem,” he nodded.  
  
Michael regarded him gratefully and raced for the doors, heading out into the sunny, late April morning.

* * *

 

  
Gazing down at the flowers in his hand as they made their way down the hotel corridor, Michael hoped Lisa would like them. He'd found a small bouquet of spring flowers in a white ceramic vase that he thought would be perfect. He wasn't trying to win her back with gifts, surely not; but he hoped it would at least make some amends for his thoughtless behavior last night. Sniffing, he inhaled their sweet perfume and it actually calmed his nerves some.  
  
At last they reached his and Lisa's room. Eric looked at him expectantly. “Shall I...?” he mouthed.  
  
Michael nodded earnestly. Eric was the last person she'd seen, and the person she most trusted at the moment. Michael really hoped to change that in time; sooner rather than later.  
  
Eric rapped on the door. “Knock knock.”  
  
Pause. And then...  
  
“Come in,” Lisa's voice called out. Michael had heard her sniffle first and his heart sunk. It sounded as if she were still crying. He didn't expect her to be anything but upset about what that git had done to her, but it still …  
  
He wasn't given anymore time to ponder when Eric nodded to him and gestured for him to go first. Michael steeled himself, grabbed hold of knob and swung the door open. He stuck his head inside, raising his eyebrows tentatively. He found Lisa sitting on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted. Her eyes flew over to him for a split second and she nodded before turning back around. Michael took this as his cue to enter, and he did so gingerly.  
  
“Alright, I'll let you two talk it out,” Eric spoke up as he stuck his head in the doorway, remaining outside.  
  
“Thanks, Eric,” Lisa said, emotionless, turning to him and giving him a little smile. Michael felt a pang of jealously for a moment. She could look Eric in the eyes and smile at him. Well, of course she could; he was there for her. It made Michael just despise himself even more.  
  
Eric smiled back and nodded, then looked at Michael in encouragement. “Remember,” he whispered, patting Michael on the shoulder.  
  
Michael gazed down at Eric's hand on his shoulder and nodded, lifting his gaze back to Eric. “Thanks,” he said softly.  
  
Eric gave one final nod, leaving them to it. Michael neared the bed and stared at Lisa, sitting on the far end and refusing to look at him. He placed the small bouquet on the table and then sat down next to her. Lisa moved away and he felt his heart breaking again. He wished she would give him half a chance.  
  
He sat down closer, yet she still moved further away. He moved over and she moved yet again, until she was on the very edge of the bed.  
  
Michael grinned. “Nowhere else for you to go but the floor, love,” he teased gently. She still refused to look at him, her jaw set.  
  
He sighed. “I'm a right bloody tosser. Lisa, please. Look at me,” he pleaded.  
  
She still didn't react. Michael knew he could do one of two things: sit there in defeat and pity until she decided to finally look at him; or take the initiative and show her that he cared, no, loved her deeply and was so sorry for what he had done. Eric's words from earlier echoed in his mind.  
  
 _'Show her you care.'_  
  
Reaching out, he cupped his hand over her chin, gently turning her face to look at him. A tiny bit of fear welled up inside him as to how she'd react, but this time she didn't resist. It was a tiny ray of hope that perhaps she could forgive him.  


* * *

  
Lisa felt Michael touch her chin and she shivered inwardly. She knew she couldn't keep this up. Besides, giving him the silent treatment was perhaps a bit unreasonable and immature. It wasn't as if he'd deliberately set everything up for her to be attacked. He was just … oblivious. He wasn't there to save her. Not that she wanted to think of herself as a damsel in distress who couldn't take care of herself; she had just never been in such a situation before and with Michael being in the same room when it started, she'd hoped for at least some support from him.  
  
Michael turned her face so she could finally look at him. She kept her expression on the stony side, but her heart started melting when she noticed the unbearably guilty look on his face.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I got so caught up in celebrity and glitz and drink and all that superficial rubbish, I failed to pay attention to that which is so much more important.” He touched her lightly on the cheek. “You were obviously in danger and I was so pissed I didn't even realize it. Stupid bastard.”  
  
Lisa couldn't tell if he was referring to Don or to himself with that last comment.  
  
“Lisa, I'm sorry. Please. What can I do to make you not hate me?”  
  
Michael's voice faltered on the word 'hate' and Lisa felt tears forming in her eyes as she realized how badly this affected him. She broke her stony facade and her lip began to tremble. “Oh, Michael. I could never, ever hate you. In fact – and I realize this is rather silly now – I thought you didn't care and perhaps no longer loved me.”  
  
Michael seemed to flinch, as if her words really stung him. He gathered her up in his arms. “Oh, darling, I am so sorry I made you believe that. I love you and I do care; I always have and I always will. I made that promise the day we were married. I was such a stupid git to make you think otherwise.”  
  
Lisa's tears were falling in earnest as she relaxed into him. “And I was stupid to think it, but I … I just felt so helpless as this was all going on.”  
  
Michael stroked her hair. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  
  
She knew she had to. Lisa took a deep breath and nodded. She told Michael all about what happened from the moment Don approached her and started flirting. As she got to the part where she'd tried to get Michael's attention, she caught a deep blush in his cheeks and he'd lowered his head almost in shame.  
  
“Oh God, I really acted that way?”  
  
All she could do was nod.  
  
“Darling, I am so sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “Please know that there is no one as important to me as you.”  
  
Lisa gazed up at him, able to make out the tenderness in Michael's face through the blur of her tears. She merely sniffled in reply.  
  
“Please tell me the rest.”  
  
She continued and Michael's eyes widened and his face blanched when she described what Don had done to her in the private room. “Please tell me he didn't hurt you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. There seemed to be a tinge of anger in it as well.  
  
Composing herself a bit, Lisa shook her head. “No, he didn't; not physically, anyway. And I know what you're thinking, but no, he didn't rape me. He didn't get that far when Eric showed up.”  
  
Michael appeared both hurt and embarrassed at the same time. “Did you talk to the police?”  
  
“Yes, we did. We told the management at the massage parlor and they rang the police. They took the bastard away, questioned me and Eric, filled out a report and said they would contact us if they needed any further information.”  
  
Michael let out the deep breath he seemed to be holding. “That's it, is it? Oh, Christ, Lisa. I could have stopped this. I should have stayed with you. I shouldn't have let those people drag me away and get me so involved in conversation about the stupidest crap, I shouldn't have drunk like a fish the way I did.” He rambled away at top speed. “I shouldn't---”  
  
Lisa held an index finger to his lips. “Michael, please. It's not your fault,” she admonished him gently. “No one knew this was going to happen.”  
  
Michael seemed to relax a bit. “Still, I can't believe what that fucking bastard did to you. If he were in front of me now I would beat him senseless.” He glared angrily.  
  
Lisa raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah, I've always been known as a non-confrontational chap with not a mean bone in my body, but after attacking my wife like that he would not get through me easily.”  
  
She felt a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. It faltered as she realized how very vulnerable she was. “Perhaps I should take some self-defense classes … karate, judo...”  
  
“Hm. Next thing you'll be showing off some fancy moves like Bruce Lee?” He smiled for the first time she'd seen today. “Sorry, I don't mean to sound insensitive.”  
  
She found herself laughing. It felt good to relax and laugh just a bit. “You're not being insensitive. Believe me, this is the first time I've laughed in quite a while.” She sighed. “I needed it.”  
  
She gazed up into Michael's sweet smile before he scooped her up into another hug. “Please believe me when I say I love you more than anything. I was so bloody selfish last night. I promise I will never let such a thing happen again. And I won't let myself get talked into so much drink either...”  
She raised her head and gave Michael a tender kiss on the lips, which he more than reciprocated.  
  
Suddenly the phone in the room gave off a shrill ring. They separated and Michael edged up off the bed. He furrowed his brow in the direction of the phone and turned back to her. “Shall I get that?”  
  
Lisa smoothed down her hair and nodded.  
  
Michael picked up the phone. “Hello? ….. Yes. Yes, I'm her husband. ….. Oh? … Really.... Well she's here, I'll put her on.” He turned to Lisa. “It's the police station, love. Seems there's been an interesting turn of events.”  
  
Lisa regarded him curiously as she got up and took the phone from him. An interesting turn of events? She hoped the guy wasn't going to get off scot free for what he'd done. She put the receiver up to her ear. “Hello?... Yes, this is she...... What??”

* * *

 

  
Michael gazed at Lisa expectantly, hoping that it wasn't bad news. From her expression that didn't seem to be the case, but still.  
  
She hung up the phone and approached Michael. “Well. Interesting turn indeed.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”  
  
“It seems that Don has a criminal record.”  
  
Michael felt his eyebrows lift even higher, his eyes widening. “What??”  
  
“Mm-hm. Five counts of sexual harassment and aggravated assault in the last two years. He was convicted and sentenced to prison four times, the last two sentences were commuted and he was given some community service. He just finished his last bit of service a few weeks ago.”  
  
Michael was truly at a loss for words. “How... how did he end up at this party with such a history?”  
  
“Do you know who was in charge of hiring these people to stand round in the knight costumes?”  
  
“I thought the cinema and the distributor here in New York were involved. Certainly not us.” A thought suddenly came to him and his mind flew into action. “Hang on. I'm going to make a few phone calls,” he muttered, rising and heading toward the phone.

* * *

 

  
“Well! Another bit of interesting information,” Michael exclaimed as he'd hung up the phone for what Lisa hoped was the last time. She gazed at him expectantly. “I spoke to the distributor and the chaps from the cinema. Turns out the others had volunteered, but they knew of no 'Don' who had volunteered to dress as Sir Lancelot.”  
  
Lisa's jaw dropped. “So... so he just showed up? Sneaked in on his own accord??”  
  
Michael nodded grimly. “Seems so. Given his history, it wouldn't be surprising he reckoned he'd find some ladies on which to prey at such a gathering. I told them what had happened. They feel absolutely awful. They asked how long we have left in New York and if you wanted to speak to someone – a counselor they know. They offered to pay for it.”  
  
Lisa was surprised and even a bit touched. “That's very kind of them, but I think I'll wait until we get back to London if I feel the need to speak to anyone.”  
  
Michael nodded. “I told them we only had a few days left anyway and wanted to make the most of them. Thought you wanted to put this whole sordid thing behind you.”  
  
Lisa sighed. She had been quite traumatized by what Don had done, but she knew it could have been a lot worse and was so thankful it wasn't. She did want to put all this behind her and at least try to enjoy their remaining days in New York. Who knows how long it would be until they got the opportunity to return? “Yeah, I would like to enjoy the rest of the little time we have left here,” she smiled.  
  
Michael returned her smile and gathered her into a hug once again. “My dear Lisa, I hope you can forgive me for being such an idiot last night.”  
  
She stepped back and grinned slightly. “Only if you will stop apologizing so much!” she joked. She caught his dimples peeking out at the corners of his mouth and traced one of them with her index finger. Michael giggled and they embraced, kissing tenderly.

* * *

 

  
Michael and Lisa spent their last few days in New York very well. They'd met the other Pythons for meals and touring the city. Jonesy in particular seemed a bit embarrassed and withdrawn at first and earned amused grins from the others, having caught wind of his drunken experience with Michael after the Holy Grail premiere party.  
  
They'd also done quite a bit of sight-seeing, just walking through the park, and on their last night they'd taken a romantic cruise in the harbor. It turned out that Michael had planned this in particular as a peace offering and to show Lisa how much he loved her. It was a beautiful night, the moon glistening off the water and the cool breezes intermixing with the warm, late-April/early-May air. After a delicious meal, Michael had ordered some chocolate covered strawberries along with a bottle of champagne. And, just to show Lisa he meant business, he watched what he drank.  
  
Toward the end of the evening, they stood out on the deck, looking out at the harbor. Michael wrapped his arm around Lisa, pulling her closer to him. She gazed at him lovingly. “Michael?”  
  
“Yes, love?”  
  
“Thank you. Thank you for all this. Thank you for loving me, and thank you for being you.”  
  
He smiled warmly at her. “And thank you for forgiving me for being such an arse.”  
  
“And thank you for quitting that incessant apologizing,” she laughed.  
  
He joined her and then wrapped his arms around her, picking her up slightly and setting her back down before engulfing her in a deep kiss.  
  
Lisa felt her heart cry out in ecstasy and she started running her hands through Michael's hair. Yes, things had ended on a high note. Their New York story had started off well, gone down in the dumpster for a few chapters, but the story's conflict had been resolved well.  
  
And she wouldn't have changed the ending for the world.  
  
  
THE END


End file.
